Pretty girls, party girls, fountain girls
We have such different ideas of a good time. She goes clubbing, I hang out on the hall. She goes to dorm parties, I curl up on the benches outside. She goes into the city, I rifle the cases of the nearby record store.
It's funny that we live in the same space, get along really well, and are so incredibly different. We spend hardly any time together - not because either dislikes the other but because of schedules and different tastes. She parties. She's one of about six party girls on campus. I relax.
I like her a lot. I'm not saying that just because she might read this someday. If I didn't like her, I wouldn't bring it up at all. But I do like her. She's funny, and has a knack for funny story telling. I can see that she's really authoritative with her friends but not usually with me. And I have no scorn for party girls, only a little bit of respect and a little bit of incredulity that she can survive on so little down time.
It's strikes me as funny, though, how the polar opposites mirror each other in pattern. I started to see paralells today in the ways we spend our free time, even if the actual methods are so wildly different. All the time she spends at parties reminds me all the times I spend at the scintillatinggarden I visit. Sometimes living here feels like living in a carefully choreographed park. I don't mind though. I like my outdoors clean and spacious, not tangled with undergrowth and rock outcrops, and I always have. Authenticity is for yuppies with machetes.
There's a bench in the garden I visit. Sometimes I do my homework there, sometimes I sit and read, sometimes I just sit. It's cold in the shade there, even in the middle of the day. There's a fountain nearby. I spent an hour in the garden this afternoon, and half way through I realized that the ground was covered in cigarette butts. I felt no disgust in me when I made the observation. I think it was a good thing I discovered the cigarette butts on my third trip to the garden. If I had seen them earlier, if I had taken a part of the garden for the whole, I doubt I would return to it.
The parallel isn't as obvious as I thought it was. But I heard her talking to the telephone about it: "You don't understand, I need to get out of the dorm. The world doesn't make it into the dorm." I understand though. I suspect that we're driven out of the dorm for the same reason - the world doesn't make it in - but we find the world in opposite places. And I think it's as easy to be overwhelmed by either of our escapes - she can come home drunk, I can wake up disoriented and groggy and cold.
I don't like parties - they're out of my element. But, oh, how I understand her need to get out. Part of me is looking for people at the fountain. I watch people in the garden with as much vigilance and scrutiny as I would at a party. I wonder about them, make up stories, and think about how interesting it would be if they talked to me. People don't think of going to sit around a fountain in a quiet garden as a grand social activity, but it's probably my favorite one.
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She's a warm, pale girl with a fleshy jaw. It's all I see when I see her - the shape of her jaw. I can't tell you what sort of shirts she wears or anything cause I stare at her face, trying to figure out why it's so simply beautiful. She tilts her head back, and smiles slightly when she listens to you. There's nothing fierce or angular about her, but I don't want you to think she's an amoeba or anything. She's pretty, and soft, and fleshy, and soft spoken. She's got a pastel face. Light pink, blonde, and blue.
But I don't think she's demure. I don't want to give you the wrong idea. Her voice isn't quiet, or swallowed up. It's clear and forthwright. Just not clanging. What interests me about her is that she's not textbook beautiful. I've never seen anyone quite like her. Despite the number of women who've been compared to the moon, I'm still tempted. She's luminescent. But probably not a lunatic. She seems to be grounded.
It's the way she tilts her head back when she listens that interests me most about her. I caught myself tilting my nose back, and leaving my mouth open during a fascinating lecture once. I peered up for a better view, and peered forward for the sake of my interest, and forgot to shut my mouth. But that was a fascinating lecture. She tilted back her head at lunch, talking about sweet potatoes. Maybe she finds everything so fascinating, even sweet potatoes at lunch. Maybe she's still got wonder about her.
I'm interested in people these days. I suppose this is all a byproduct of no one being familiar in a known-since-grade-school type way. I sit around and stare at them. I hope this doesn't freak them out too much.
I know entries are less frequent than ever. This took a couple days. Not only am I lacking time, I'm also lacking a lot of subject matter. I guess this is a byproduct of being content.
2000-09-29, Pretty girls, party girls, fountain girls
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